


Pride for Thought

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Heavy Angst, Homophobic Language, M/M, Pride, Pride Festival, Pride Parade, Protestors - Freeform, Protests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 13:12:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15686106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: When Dean finally catches up with Cas at the end of the park sitting on a bench, they’re both out of breath. Cas more so from sobbing. Dean bends down in front of him, damning the confining pink tutu Emma insists he wear. He takes one of Cas’s hands covering his face and sandwiches it between his. “Cas, can you look at me?”Cas shakes his head. A few tears spill onto Dean’s hands.“I’m not mad at you,” he says. “I know you wouldn’t associate with them.”“But I did!” Cas shakes his head more furiously. “I did,” he says, quieter.





	Pride for Thought

**Author's Note:**

> So this was supposed to be finished shortly after attending my local Pride but honestly every day is Pride so Happy Fuckin' Pride everyone

For someone who dresses exclusively in black five days out of the week, the display of colors is a blinding sight. Everywhere he turns, he’s met with someone waving a rainbow flag, or some variation of it. There are so many, Dean has to refer to Charlie, his Gay Dictionary™ and best friend, for insight.

The only thing colorless is the paint trickling across his open, volcanic pores. But even the thick beads gathering on and traveling the length of his torso are blue, purple, and pink from the flag painted on his chest—which couldn’t be a more accurate personification to describe how he feels. Dean’s never embraced his sexuality like today. Today… today feels like a holiday dedicated to him. Every blood vessel, every breath, every drop of sweat, and every step he takes is a day to embrace not only who he loves, but how he loves.

It’s also a nice change to be attending Pride rather than _tending to_ it, if not a little scarier. As much as he’d like to believe love is the only weapon he needs, the handful of times Dean’s been to Pride have been during work hours. There’s always that one asshole that starts a fire and literally rains on everyone’s parade when they have to put it out.  And although he’s extinguished plenty of flaming dicks, and he’s trained to take every non-sexy kind of blow since he was six, thanks to his police officer father, he frets his family will fall victim to a hate crime. If there’s one thing people hate more than homonormativity, it’s homonormativity corrupting the youth. And Dean can’t go to jail if someone touches Emma or Jack. He can’t leave Cas and the kids like that.

Cas…

Dean stopped chasing rainbows ever since finding his pot of gold.

Dean never thought he’d get so lucky. He fell for someone who loves him for his parts, not his frame _—_ which, at first, was terrifying for someone who’s relied on his looks to get by most his life. And has been attracted to people simply because… well, they’re _attractive._ Aside from being the very definition of his sexuality, it’s just easier, anyway: Cut the fat and suck the bone straight from the marrow.

But Cas is different. Cas is one of the few people that cherishes the fat on a meaty piece. Cas loves things about Dean most people find repulsive. Like the way Dean moans around a bacon cheeseburger from Biggerson’s. And the way he’ll go full Whitesnake on the hood of his ‘67 Chevy, who he calls Baby, just to get the last dollop of soap from underneath her windshield wipers. Hell, Cas even loves the way he _gargles—_ gargles! You know, that thing someone does to cleanse their throat, but ends up sounding like a full-on exorcism?

Once, Dean even surprised him walking into their bedroom donning a pair of pink, satiny panties for Cas’s birthday, and Cas kept his eyes “up there”, professing how much more turned on he was seeing Dean’s face while wearing them—and Dean was _mortified._ Like worthy-of-being-Sweet-Tomatoes’-new-spokesperson mortified. He’d only put on panties for one other person, and he was drunk for most of that.

Cas taught him the meaning of real love, which is why he’s out here, fighting for it. The same way the local Christian Church is fighting for their twisted version of love.

**“Faggots! Burn in Hell! God will punish you!”**

“Tell Him I prefer whips to chains! And Mother Mary!”

Dean turns to Charlie, who has small, but mischievous smile on her face. Dean returns it.

 **“You’ll pay for your sins when you enter the gates of** — _Castiel?”_

Dean and Charlie snap to Cas, who goes stark white despite the pansexual flags below his eyes.

**“Castiel! No, you’re on the wrong side of the fight, brother! Come; redeem yourself with us before it’s too late! Naomi, do we have an extra sign?”**

Cas bolts before they start their next chant.

“Charlie, can you—?” Dean gestures frantically to Emma and Jack. Charlie nods and scoops them up by their shoulders.

When Dean finally catches up with Cas at the end of the park sitting on a bench, they’re both out of breath. Cas more so from sobbing. Dean bends down in front of him, damning the confining pink tutu Emma insists he wear. He takes one of Cas’s hands covering his face and sandwiches it between his. “Cas, can you look at me?”

Cas shakes his head. A few tears spill onto Dean’s hands.

“I’m not mad at you,” he says. “I know you wouldn’t associate with them.”

“But I did!” Cas shakes his head more furiously. “I _did,”_ he says, quieter. “I… I was part of that church. M-my father and his father’s f-father were part of that c-church. I knew everything they stood against, and I couldn’t d-do anything. I _could’ve,_ but I-I—whenever Pride would come around, they’d-I’d be-I—”

“Out here,” Dean finishes, nodding. “On the opposing side.”

Cas turns his head. Dean rubs soothing circles into the dip where Cas’s index finger meets his thumb.

“I never chanted,” Cas states, finally looking at Dean as he wipes his nose. Beneath both those big, blue, crying Earths are the bleeding remnants of the flags that supported them. “But I guess it didn’t matter when I stood in the back, holding a sign I made that basically sa-aid… said wha-at…”

As he reaches with his other hand to cup Cas’s cheek, Dean tilts his head. “Cas,” he says, hoping his own eyes hold the same gravity as his husband’s, “you were scared. You wanted to protect yourself. Who knows what could’ve happened to you if you didn’t.”

“If I didn’t show up to the rally, my father’d suspect I… that I—” Cas heaves a shaky sigh. “I mean, he was so devout, one time I told him I came down with something the morning before just to get out of it, and he thought I ‘caught the disease’.”

“That’s not about being devout, Cas. That’s about being abusive.”

“The same kind of abuse countless people have probably suffered under _my_ hands!” Cas fires back. “How many people have _I_ made feel as worthless as I did? As unloved? As—”

“Hey, hey,” Dean shushes, standing up to properly hold him. Cas stands, but instantly collapses into him with beating fists. Dean takes it. Gladly if it means it’ll help Cas get the sticky residue of yesterday off him. After a moment, his hands start to soften and trace maps without any particular destination from freckle to multi-colored freckle. “Did I ever tell you I used to be a bully?”

Cas bumps his nose on Dean’s shoulder blade. “What?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” he says again, scoffing, “I was the actual worst. My main targets were people who were gay, believe it or not. A lot of them were really feminine at my school, you know, and in a sick, twisted way, I thought I was helping them by calling them names and telling them to man up. But you know what?”

Cas narrows his eyes. There’s no judgment swimming in them. Curiosity and shock instead making waves.

“I learned something from _them_ ,” he continues, “No matter what name I called them, no matter what I said, they never changed. They were just as over-the-top flamboyant as the day before. And it infuriated me, you know, because I wanted to get under someone’s skin the way my dad got under mine.” Dean shrugs before snaking his arms around Cas again. “Eventually, I realized what I said didn’t bother them because they accepted who they were. They had _pride._ And I was upset because I didn’t.”

“Those people that passed by me during protests, they didn’t have any pride. They didn’t—”

“They didn’t have anything _before_ you protested,” Dean asserts, gripping Cas’s shoulders. “They already thought they were damned. And you know where most of them are now? You know where their kids are?”

Hands still on him, Dean swivels Cas so he can see the parade in the distance—everything from the hooting and hollering to the clothes being thrown and the glitter dancing around the sea of bobbing heads below the float. They can even see Charlie with Emma and Jack, dancing to the upbeat techno blaring from the speakers. She sees the two and salutes them with her penis-shaped rainbow lollipop.

After one too many wig malfunctions, Cas leans his head on Dean’s shoulder with a sniffle. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Dean replies, kissing Cas’s damp head. “Happy Pride, angel.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
